Devour
by NURSE J0Y
Summary: They say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach... A heart-warming tale of Waylon's true love. So delicious, you'll be begging for seconds! Featuring an all-star cast of Gotham's most infamous Rogues, this love story will consume you.


Spring in Gotham brings the rain. A torrential downpour throughout the day and night. Constant and unending. Bringing with it the creation of such a dark, depressing world. An ever-present onslaught of grey clouds and dismal skies. Yearning for the sun's embrace. Hoping to see the light. The warmth. So futile and hopeless. The sun was just a dream, dreamt up by a madman so very long ago.

People mill about, clutching their umbrellas like a lifeline as they hop in and out of bright, yellow taxis. Huddling for protection beneath hotel awnings. Salvation from the storm.

This is the time of year Waylon likes best. When the rainwater mixes with the filth and grime of the sewers and streets, making them one and the same. When the topside world becomes just as cold and uninhabitable as his sewer domain. Taking a deep breath, he fills his lungs with its putrid stench. Its wretchedness.

Passing by a storm drain, his window to the outside world, Croc takes a peek out at the city street, shining with fresh rain. A car rolls past, splashing the drain and obstructing his view. A river of rainwater comes rushing in. It trickles down the concrete wall and pools around his feet.

Within its murky depths, he spies a bright and shiny object. Something that doesn't belong. It twinkles and calls out to him, like a beacon out at sea. Reaching down with a clawed and snarling hand, he picks it up, so light and delicate in his big, heavy paw. A tiny silver locket. A little shred of sunshine in his dark, bleak world.

Again, he looks out his window, this time noticing a woman dressed in a red rain slicker. She stands apart from the crowd, radiant, like a bright spot in a land of grey. Touching a hand to her neck, she searches the ground to find her lost treasure.

Pressing the locket to his snout, Waylon picks up her scent.

What happens next, he can't quite explain, but he finds himself topside, keeping to the shadows as not to be seen. Carefully, he places the necklace at her feet before scurrying behind a dumpster in a back alley. From there, he watches as she finds her lost locket and picks it up, holding it thoughtfully to her chest as she scans the crowd for her good samaritan.

From his post, Waylon smiles a wide and toothy grin.

That was his first encounter with the lady in red. The woman who warmed his heart and brought sunshine to his world.

That day as she walked away, he knew this would not be the end. He had picked up her scent and could not put it down. It followed him wherever he went. Day and night. It played with his head. He just had to see her again.

And so he did.

It started with flowers.

An exotic collection of rare pink lilies hand-picked from Ivy's secret garden and left in a place he was sure she would find.

Next came the chocolates.

The finest, hand crafted Bavarian sweets that money could buy, or in this case, smash through a store-front window and steal.

Oh how he enjoyed lavishing her with little tokens of his affection. Always watching from afar as she would tear into his gifts, at first with reservation but with increasing excitement over time. How her beaming smile would grow ever brighter from his offerings, warming his great big cold-blooded heart.

This strange and new feeling confused him so. Love wasn't exactly a word easy found or defined in his world of torment and despise. Where does one go from here? What does one do? Just what exactly is this fuzzy warm feeling he has hidden deep down inside? He needed to know. He needed answers.

And so Waylon turned to those around him who could best help him in his time of need. His fellow Rogues. Starting with the puzzling man with all the answers. The answers to all of life's greatest questions. The Riddler, of course.

* * *

The fellow in the green bowler never looked up at the Croc when asked the question "what is love?" Instead, he scratched his chin and slammed back the remainder of his scotch, scribbling away in his little book of crosswords all the while.

"Question. What is love?" The slender man posed. "Answer..."

Snickering, the Riddler kicked up his heels, pounding them down on the bar table as he teetered back in his chair. Arms resting behind his head, he stared up at the Killer and grinned.

"If you have to ask the question, then perhaps you'll never know."

Second in line, the two-faced man is never hard to find. Behind the old courthouse, the former district attorney stood flipping his father's coin. The scarred half of his face grinned wild. Fate's verdict reached, he lifted a .22 to the blubbering rat's head. Pull of the trigger and justice was served.

With another flip of the coin, Harvey left fate to decide Waylon's question. A catch and a peak and he had his answer.

"The answer is duality." The scarred man replied. "The joining of two people. When two become one."

Curiouser and curiouser still, Waylon next ventured to meet with the milliner where he found a macabre scene, indeed. Party guests posed around a tea-table, bound to their chairs wearing all fashions of hats. All women, they looked beaten and starved, no doubt been there for days.

Mad as a hatter, when asked the said question, the odd little man only stared vacantly and replied "Alice" before returning to his torture and tea.

Needing a scholar's perspective, Waylon decided to pay a visit to the man of sticks and straw, newly reformed, and posing as a professor at the local university. Surely HE would have the answers to the test.

Save Jonathan, not a soul was on campus at this hour of the night. He's holed up in his classroom, pen and paper in hand, jotting down the results to his latest experiment. A student huddled in the corner, tearing at his flesh.

The good doctor pushed his glasses up atop the ridge of his nose, mulling over the question at hand.

"Love is... frightening, really." The tall man rasped. "It's consuming. It threatens to devour your very soul."

Like a school bell calling children to class, a shrill scream rang through the halls and out into the darkness of night. A signal to leave.

The list nearing its end, just a few more to find.

The Joker cackled and called love maddening. Firefly referred to it as a blazing inferno. Man-Bat, a sickness to which there is no cure.

Each of them claimed to have the answer. So very different and yet so very much the same.

Going over all his fellow Rogues answers in his mind, the Croc finally had his answer. Waylon felt he finally understood and knew what he must do.

* * *

And so he sits inside his lair, seated at the table. A great big pot lies on the fire, boiling with thick stew. The air smells sweet with roasted meat, a dinner fit for two.

Her red slicker rests across from him, her locket safely secured inside her breast pocket. No longer lost, a treasure found. It will stay with him forever.

With a flutter in his heart, Waylon rises from the table to give his meal a final stir, using her hollowed out femur as a ladle. Taking a sip of her succulent broth, she fills his belly with new warmth and a happiness he has never known. He knew from the moment he'd laid eyes on her. They were made for each other.

He eats her bones, he eats her skin, her meat and eyeballs too. Saving her heart for last, she gives until there's nothing left. She completes him.

You see...

Love is all consuming, when two people become one. It makes you whole and fills you up, warming you from the inside, out. It'll drive you mad and feed your soul and make all life worth living.

The answer is simple, really. If you have to ask, you'll never know.

To love is to devour.

* * *

_**HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!  
XOXO**_


End file.
